Tuesday, 24 May 2011

this harsh, fiery spring

i walk through the fields of spring

in search of myself.i carry:the luxurious maps of being,drawn with meticulous exactness.a mirror, to make sure i never forgetwhom exactly i look for.a rope to jump, in case i find myself a child again, flooded with the joy of living.a handful of seeds to scatter, from time to time(though more out of boredom, really,than eagerness to become).

i make lists. i am very precise, the same precision i use to extract dreamsout of my warm blood. for example,what it is that stands between me and myself:these fields, the line of burning, whenthey meet the sky. this sunlit wound of waiting. this freshly cut grass, this bird's wing.my shadow, when you left.the dazzling music of each step.this endless fluttering back and forth,again and again.

or rather this thought here, now.the belief that i am still- and gloriously - alive,piercing through the heartof this harsh, fiery spring.

25 comments:

Thank you Roxana. I just stopped to write down on paper how I felt upon reading this, and viewing the images, and this is what I said to myself.

It takes my breathe away,this divide of all that I must do,and of all that does not care.Lostto some inaccessibleonenessof all those things that other things seem to share. It seems beautiful and beyond me. I can see and hear it, I can smell and taste it, and touch it, and yet, I cannot be it. Is this loneliness the cost of being me?

Hello my beautiful friend Roxana, well I believe that my last comment was lost by the system so I will say again,this work is powerful both the images and the words are a magnificent affirmation of existence.

The colours are beautiful.The luxurious greens rose and blues all colours of love and springtime renewal and growth. I love these words-luxurious maps of being, -to me this means the labyrinth of the soul the ancestral heritage the dna and all events that sculpt the soul down to the minute detail of feeling a dew drop on a leaf.

Ilove this a handful of seeds to scatter more out of boredom than eagerness to become-to me this means a fun play of words but at the same time a seriousness that the essence of life is the joy of being alive, the breathyes a zen meditation in blue shades of green rose and ending in blue water sky earth.BEAUTIFULthankyou for the masterpeice.bises.wishing a spring that continues to radiate through this work.

such beautiful colors in the undulations of this landscape, where inevitably the soul translates space into time, outer space into inner space, translates the brilliance and waves and shadows into self, a becoming ...

the poem, too, is wonderful, the whole ache of being and not being, at the same moment....

"a rope to jump, in case i find myself / a child again" ... and how lucky that would be! (but i think it has already happened to you, over and over, otherwise none of this would be possible :-)

So alive with movement color and energy; twisting turning vibrating zinging and buzzing. Like what the world must look and sound like if one could see and here the underlying activity of waves and molecules that appear so comfortably quiet and fixed to mortal ears and eyes. I am so overcome visually, I cannot concentrate on the text though the passage "the dazzling music of each step. this endless fluttering back and forth" penetrated my consciousness. I feel inspired to dance in celebration!

Where is this atemporal field? Can you get into a taxi and find yourself there? Or, put another way, if you had a mirror in the taxi cab - would you find a dwarf or a giant? These are fussy rhetorical questions (included for your reading pleasure).

However, if you feel compelled to answer, out of politeness (she's so polite!), you may do so. i will block my ears for seven years (my standard time frame when dealing with haughty homonyms), till the danger of comprehension or a wheedled epiphany has passed. It's very tricky to manage one's time on a bridge such as this. Luckily, i'm up to the task. (She's so relieved and disports herself in dance. Oh, i remember, she's not fond of the gestic art.)

fierce, dizzying lines .... i'd like to copy them all - for now, i'm just smiling a rueful (but not entirely joyless) smile while repeating "a rope to jump, in case i find myselfa child again, flooded with the joy of living.a handful of seeds to scatter, from time to time(though more out of boredom, really,than eagerness to become)"

Dan, this is so beautiful, achingly so - and it echoes everything i felt when writing this, everything i have always felt. i can't say anything else than thank you, humbly so, gratefully so, dear friend...

dear Madeleine, how happy i am to see you here, despite the harshness of this fiery spring :-) i am also happy that you have resonated with my colours and words, joy and longing, and sorrow too. thank you and spring is still very much here, warmer but still with rain and thunder...je t'embrasse de tout coeur!

billoo, wonderful to see you haven't left the Bridge! but why are you keen on annoying me, when have i cut and paste anything here, without acknowledging that i was doing just that?! however, i am magnanimous tonight, i will just let that pass :-)

i am happy you like it so, Vladimir, i took these from the car window, on my way to Bucharest and back :-)

Cristina, the Bridge trembles with joy, every time you walk upon it.

James, you made me smile, not only your wonderful words, but that image of me finding my childhood self all over again, how can i not smile? if only this could be true... but perhaps it is, every time i press the button...

Lynne, maybe a witch gave me the spindle, and i have slept for a 100 years, then i awoke just to see the beauty of these spring fields :-) and to welcome you all on this Bridge, of course, heavy with 100-years springs and winters :-)

Stickup, aaahh, this is so wonderful, that my post inspired you to dance, what could i wish more? these Danube fields are so different than your mountains and deserts, yet they are pervaded with the same life vibration, aren't they? despite the different feel of the air, the different colours, different hues of the sky - the song of the earth is everywhere the same.

Prospero, so delusional, thinking you are up to whatever task here on the Bridge, don't you know this world is nothing but a huge Fata Morgana? :-) no taxi can bring you here, no maps - and in the mirrors you will only see your endless faces. though perhaps, if you persevere, you will get to see your true face as well, the only one, the one you have been long looking for.

Intoxicated by your images. Twilight, dream-scape, that elusive something gleaned just at the instant one closes or opens one's eyes. After-images. Wanting to step into these landscapes but knowing I might not come back out. Beautiful. Dangerous. Reality is the shadow.

This and the previous sakura petal are astoundingly beautiful. The medium restricts them: one kept wanting to be able to rearrange and superimpose them a little as could be done using layers of acetate.

Marjojo!!! how delighted i am with your visit, and your words are a poem themselves... thank you, i don't know how to thank you for this joy...

Michael T., thank you for coming to the Bridge again, i am very moved by your interest in my work... that is a great idea and i am sure one could experiment with it, but i don't really know how... though i tried to play with the sakura petals in another medium too, you will see the result in the next post...